


Valiant Warrior

by GoofyGoldenGirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Childbirth, Devotion, Gen, Illnesses, Married Couple, Pregnancy, Season 3 Spoilers, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 21:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11745270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoofyGoldenGirl/pseuds/GoofyGoldenGirl
Summary: She showed more sheer will and courage than the bravest of warriors. More than even him.





	Valiant Warrior

The two guards lay unconscious on the floor. Zarkon burst through the doors of the royal chamber. His footsteps were as loud as thunder. His stance wide and threatening. The purple of his cheeks bordered on black and he waved a clenched fist about as he spat: 

“How **dare** —“

His arrival went unnoticed. The doctor and his assistant, a woman Zarkon had only seen once before, were both situated in front of the bed. Two servants with wearied expressions rushed past him. One carried a bundle of bloodstained sheets. The other balanced a basin that sloshed and nearly spilled underneath the cloth that covered its sickening contents. The rage that had carried Zarkon all the way to his chambers froze over. The horror set in. His eyes widened and chills went down his spine as he heard her scream from the bed.

“Honerva!” Zarkon cried out.

He ran over to his wife. The metallic smell of blood permeated his senses. With a fumbling step he approached the bed. Honerva’s empty gaze was fixed on the ceiling. Sweat dripped down her forehead and sunken cheeks. A loose nightgown hung from her skeletal frame, the ends stained with fresh blood that blotted the newly changed sheets below her. Both midwife and doctor turned with a start at the sound of Zarkon’s voice. The midwife grabbed a nearby rag and frantically began to wipe her hands. The doctor straightened his posture and got up to his feet. He faced Zarkon and bowed his head.

“Lord Zarkon,” he nervously greeted him. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Zarkon demanded.

“Lord Zarkon I can explain—“ The doctor started. 

“How long were you planning on keeping this from me?” Zarkon asked. 

“Lord Zarkon, we had no clue that the illness would induce labor—“

“I, her **husband** have been waiting outside that door for **hours** without any news of her condition! I assumed the **worst** had happened!” Zarkon angrily exclaimed.

“We thought we had a chance to stop it before—“

“She’s only five months along and she hasn’t even begun to outwardly show yet! No one else besides the four of us even knows that she is expecting!” 

Zarkon lunged forward and grabbed the doctor by his shirt. His fingers clenched over the blood stains that dotted the front and in a swift movement, he lifted the doctor up and violently shook him back and forth. The midwife dropped the rag with a shout. She shot up from her place by Honerva’s legs and ran over to Zarkon.

“Stop! Let him go!” She shrieked. She reached out to restrain Zarkon but was knocked down to the floor.

“Give me one good reason not to have you, the **both** of you! **killed** for endangering my **wife** and child!” Zarkon yelled. 

“Lord Zarkon have mercy! I’m doing my best to **save** them!” Fear seeped into the doctor’s voice.

Zarkon’s hands slid up the collar and dug into the doctor’s neck. They pushed in and squeezed. The doctor screamed.

A sharp groan from Honerva broke Zarkon’s murderous rage. He dropped the doctor and rushed over to her side. The midwife picked herself up from the floor and scampered over to her patient. She moved Honerva’s leg to the side and the ends of her nightgown upward. The doctor, rubbing his neck, looked on from behind the midwife’s shoulder and then crouched down beside her.

“She’s about to contract again!” The midwife exclaimed. 

Honerva’s body tensed up. Her arms curled in and her hands flailed about Zarkon gently took one her hands into his’. He leaned in and gazed into her hollow eyes.

“Honerva, Honerva darling, it’s me, it’s me, Zarkon,” he whispered.

The corner of Honerva’s lip trembled and stretched upwards. She shakily gasped. Her lips jutted out to form the first syllable of his name but then the sound warped into another high-pitched scream. She gripped onto Zarkon’s hand with all the strength she had. 

“She’s in pain. **Give** her something!” Zarkon shouted at the doctor. 

“We tried. She rejected it,” the doctor quickly said with a glance upward before resuming examining Honerva.

“Rejected it? **Impossible!** Look at her! She’s **writhing** on the bed!” Zarkon briefly let go of his wife’s hand to gesture down at her. 

“Her _body_ rejected the anesthetics. We tried several but she _vomited_ them all back up. That quintessence must have weakened her immune system.” 

The word awoke something inside of Honerva. She stiffened and raised her upper body.

“QUIN-tessENCE—need— QUINTESSENCE!” She agitatedly said. 

“Honerva, Honerva you’ll be alright,” Zarkon responded in a soothing tone. His free arm slid behind her back to support her up. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles.

**”QUINTESSENCE!”** Honerva shrilly shouted. Her eyes bulged, her pupils expanded out across the irises. Her eyelids flickered open and shut. Zarkon pulled her in as close to him as he could with a worried expression. His eyebrows furrowed and then he gazed up at the doctor and the midwife. 

“Why don’t you give her quintessence?” He barked at them.

“Lord Zarkon, you know as much as I do that the exposure to quintessence was what _caused_ her illness,” the doctor responded. 

“It’s the **baby** that’s hurting her! The quintessence can **heal** her!”

“We’d be playing with **fire!”** The doctor shot back.

Before Zarkon could speak, Honerva screamed again. She became limp and sunk back into his arms.

“Honerva! **Honerva!”** Zarkon slid onto the side of the bed and crawled up next to her. He adjusted his position so that her head and upper back lay against his shoulder and left arm. He smoothed back a strand of loose hair from her forehead and then lowered his right hand to take hers. She instinctively leaned back against him to rest for a brief second. The pain washed over her again. Her muscles contracted. Her face turned a deep shade of red and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“It BURNS! **”BURNS!”** She howled.

She thrashed about again. Zarkon did not flinch. He still supported her upright and scooted in so her head could rest between his chest and shoulder. She closed her eyes and groaned. Zarkon glanced down, then out at the doctor and midwife. 

“What is happening to her?” He anxiously asked. 

“Her skin tore. It is expected to happen when a woman gives birth,” the midwife gave him a simple answer to pacify him.

“The head is descending,” the doctor announced.

“My Lady you have to push. Push!” The midwife said. 

Honerva squeezed Zarkon’s hand so hard that his knuckles turned black. His hand spasmed. He glanced down to see that her other hand was clinging to the sheets and was twisting them back and forth.

“Push!”

Honerva’s belly rose and fell with a jolt of her pelvis. The midwife steadied her shaking legs so the doctor could easily deliver the baby. Zarkon sat beside her, overwhelmed by his helplessness as he watched her suffer. Yet, he was also in awe of her strength. Despite the excruciating pain, Honerva fought on. She kept on pushing. She showed more sheer will and courage than the bravest of warriors. More than even _him._

**”Push!”**

Honerva let out one last bloodcurdling cry that sent Zarkon’s ears ringing. It all happened so fast that he didn’t have time to process it: the arch of her body, the blood, the doctor’s hands bringing the baby forth, the color draining from her cheeks, and then, silence. There was a tense pause as the doctor lifted the baby up.

“My Lady, My Lord—you have a boy,” The doctor informed them.

The baby was so tiny that he stretched from the bottom of the doctor’s wrist up to the top of his fingertips. His purplish skin was so light that Zarkon could see the outline of his bones. Wispy white hairs covered the top of his head. The baby feebly kicked the air. His mouth gaped open, trembling as he struggled to cry. Honvera weakly raised her head.

“Lotor,” She whispered.

Lotor was an old Altean name that meant _valiant warrior._ As Zarkon looked over at his son, a part of him was filled with a desire to see that his son would live up to his name and pull through, and the other had to urge to grab the baby and rattle him about for causing his mother so much pain. 

Doctor and midwife exchanged frightened glances as he passed the baby over to her to cut the umbilical cord. She pressed the palm of her hand on the baby’s chest and cast what appeared to be a spell to expand the baby’s lungs, but the newborn still faintly mewed. Moving quickly, she wrapped the baby in a blanket and proceeded to carry him away from his parents to be treated. 

With a sob, Honerva’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. She fainted in Zarkon’s arms.


End file.
